


Broken Bridges

by DestructivelyConstructive



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Blinky/Bular whelps, How Do I Tag, M/M, Multi, Mythical at worst, Other, Villians Win AU, complicated relationships abound, how does anyone tag anything, i had so much fun writing this, no seriously, updates are sporadic at best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestructivelyConstructive/pseuds/DestructivelyConstructive
Summary: What if fortune hadn't been watching over the Trollhunters? What if Gunmar HAD risen again? Blinky had hoped he would never find out, but he was stuck right in the middle of it. Separated from his friends and in Bular's negligent care, what is the historian to do?





	1. Tyrant's Colors

Blinky made a point to ignore the presence of the larger troll as he re-read one of the books that Bular had deemed to leave with him. To entertain his 'pet' while he was gone, he remembered the exact words, souring his already foul mood. He kept his face in a careful mask of engrossment, feigning to be absorbed by what he was reading. He was not a pet, thank you very much!

When the air around the bullish troll shifted and he heard him begin to move, Blinky finally deemed to 'notice' him, glancing to the side and acting as if he had just saw him.

“Bular! I didn't see you there. This-” He raised the book he had closed. “Is quite engaging.”

His general tone was rather bland, but the undertones were absolutely brimming with passive-aggressiveness.

The son of Gunmar snorted, looking at him with narrowed eyes, and withdrew the arm he had been beginning to stretch toward the smaller troll.

What was he doing with the Gumm-Gumm, you ask? That tale of woe is for another time, it would seem. But it was one that left the historian wishing he had some decent company.

“To what do I owe the interest?” He honestly queried.

The dark troll had all but ignored Blinky outside of making his initial claim and snarling his frustration at the bookish troll for his escape attempts. As such he – for the most part - had been left to his own devices. For Bular to show any sort of interest was a strange occurrence in the months following the opening of Killahead Bridge. So much so that it put Blinky on edge.

He stirred at the question, sitting up a bit more. The words that rumbled out of the larger troll surprised the librarian, and sharpened the edge he was feeling in this situation.

“I have something for you.”

The blue troll's warning lights went off, standing up and out off the larger troll's reach.

“Well, how thoughtful of you...” He hummed, his tone rich with the colors of sarcasm and suspicion.

The dangerous angles of Bular's glowing eyes softened slightly as he regarded him. His face was contemplative as he did a slow once-over of the six-eyed troll. Said six-eyed troll felt very exposed under the fiery gaze of his captor and crossed his arms, attempting to lessen the sensation.

After another few moments of this, Bular seemed to have gleaned what he wanted. He turned slightly and began to reach into a leather pouch that Blinky had failed to take notice of earlier.

“Come here.” The Gumm-Gumm troll commanded.

The historian stalled as he rationalized the endings of different actions. Bular could pick up the other troll with an obscene amount of ease if he refused to move. The two more frivolous actions ended poorly, with any remaining freedom he still had being stripped away from him. That left the option of simply obeying the order he had been given.

And so, with a long-suffering sigh, Blinky returned to the seat he had abandoned to evade the brutish troll. There was a huff from Bular, and the bookish troll was picked up and pulled in closer proximity to Gunmar's son. Much too close for comfort Blinky thought.

“Stay still and close your eyes, pet.” The larger male rumbled.

Blinky narrowed his several eyes at him. “I am not a pet, Bular.” He huffed.

His response was an indulgent hum that left him just as irritated as the term being applied to him.

A metallic glimmer caught two of his eyes and he flinched. He knew what that paint meant, and he had been hoping to stall for another few months before it got applied to him. He supposed he should be thankful that he had been able to avoid as long as he head, taking into consideration that it took longer to brew then the favored colors of gold and silver.

With an internal sigh, he closed his eyes and willed himself not to jerk away as Bular's claws came into contact with his skin. Maybe, just maybe, if he complied with the Gumm-Gumm's orders, he could be granted some of the lee-way he had lost with the several escapades he had attempted earlier in this unfortunate arrangement.

The silence that hung in the air was the incredibly awkward and uncomfortable sort, during which Blinky took notes. Bular seemed most intent on painting around his eyes before anything else, and when he did move on from that area, the designs weren't nearly as intricate as before. At least, from what Blinky could tell.

Finally, he heard Bular put the container away, and when he did, the paint on his body began to sting. From some sort of binding enchantment no doubt. Still, Blinky hissed at the moderate pain it brought, and instinctively went to wipe it away. A fruitless effort, as it would seem.

The pain dissipated quickly enough and the historian opened his eyes to glare at the other troll with as much scorn as he could muster. Which, given the events that had transpired in the last few months, and Blinky's current predicament, was quite staggering.

Still, Bular looked pleased with his handiwork as he did another once over of the smaller irate troll. Blinky scowled and looked down on himself as well.

The copper color that his captor had painstakingly created was actually a fitting accent for the color of his stone skin. That was a detail Blinky almost expected Bular wouldn't bother with. The design was pleasing as well, with the odd combination of lines that clearly had a geometrical root, and softened corners that lessened the harshness of the line segments.

The blue troll made a note to look over himself more when he was somewhat barricaded in his own safe haven, before getting up and walking away, intent on doing just that.

Bular let him do so, and Blinky closed the door to the room he had been so graciously given. Immediately after he heard the tell-tale click of the door closing securely, he secured the door as much as he was able to. Not that it would do much in the face of Bular's brute strength, save for give him some peace of mind before then.

Once he had done that, Blinky turned to the mirror that had been positioned in just the right manner to watch for intruders. He disregarded the distorted color it had and began examining the new metallic patterns on his skin.

For one, they followed the same theme as before, save for that the lines were thinner and the pattern was much more intricate. He wasn't surprised that said patterns took up the majority of the space around his eyes, but he was slightly curious how Bular had gotten the lines to be so thin. His claws weren't exactly made for creating such delicate things after all. He didn't really linger on it as he moved on.

He noted that there were more harsh lines connected with delicate curves, and dots lining some of the connected segments. There wasn't much more to tell about the paint that now decorated his face, save that they also filled in the groves that were present.

Once he finished studying his face, he moved onto the simpler body patterns. One of the things that stood out the most was the pattern that broke the common theme. Once he inspected it more closely, revealing an outline he knew well at this point, Blinky felt aggravation flare within him.

He had known the paint had been a binding in his new position, but now he was branded with Bular's sigil! He growled slight and left the mirror in favor of making his way to the small desk with an unfinished book resting atop it. He paused as he picked up the book with one of his lower hands, hit with a sudden bout of melancholy.

 _'When did everything go so awry?'_ He wondered, being drawn into months past.

* * *

_Blinky watched with dread as the portal opened, caught between two very real fears. One was a selfish, self preserving fear. One of the horrors that would be unleashed if the bridge was allowed to open, and the other was for his friends, especially Aaarrrgghh and Jim. What would happen to the former Gumm-Gumm general and human Trollhunter if Gunmar and his horde was loosed upon the world once again?_

_He vaguely noted NotEnrique shouting something as he and Tobias made their way over to where Aaarrrgghh was restraining Bular. He saw the young changeling fly across the room from the corner of his leftmost eye, and saw a flash of blue make it's way up the bridge._

_He turned his head some and saw that Draal had taken thing into his own hands. Quite literally, as he was pulling at the Amulet of Daylight with all his might, doing his damnedest close the bridge. Jim started to shout pleads at the determined troll over the noise of the portal, clearly worried about his well being._

_There was a flash of fuchsia, and the green eyed changeling – he had never learned her name – was pulling on Draal, attempting to dislodge him._

_Gunmar's voice echoed from the portal, calling for his son, and sending a sliver of ice through the core of his being. Then Draal and the female changeling were sent flying off the bridge. The amulet snapped back into place in the lock. The portal ceased the attempts to suck everything into the Darklands and stabilized._

_And then allowed the Gumm-Gumm warlord to emerge from under the arch of Killahead Bridge. Bular threw Aaarrrgghh away from him, quite easily thanks to how surprised and horrified the gentle giant was, and began to approach his father with a gruesomely pleased smile. Stricklander gained the upper hand from Jim, and threw him to the floor in front of the large troll. Tobias cried out for his friend, as Blinky did the same. Aaarrrgghh was doing his best to stay out sight for as long as possible, practically cowering._

_Stricklander jumped down besides the boy and began speaking. Blinky didn't hear what was being said, for he turned to Tobias and began to instructing him on what to do._

_“Tobias. You need to run. Get Claire and go to Troll Market. You need to tell Vendel; We failed, and Killahead Bridge has been opened.” He glanced off to the side. The Gumm-Gumms and Changeling were still talking. “Go. Now!” He hissed, lightly pushing the boy. ”Get Draal too!”_

_Just at that moment, as if the mention of his name had rejuvenated him, Draal's apparent stupor faded and he threw the fuchsia changeling at Gunmar's feet. He looked ready to fight on, until more Gumm-Gumms, huge hulking brutes they were, came through the portal. He growled in frustration and turned to flee, Tobias following him closely._

_The changeling woman snarled and looked to Gunmar, asking if she should pursue them._

_“No. We will catch them in time. Why waste energy that can be applied elsewhere?”_

_After that, it was a blur of commotion that Blinky couldn't recall, but after all that he was – unfortunately, painstakingly – aware of what happened next._

_Bular had claimed him as a 'pet' – Jim and Aaarrrgghh nearly lost their minds with the outrage that had course through them with that development – whilst the Trollhunter and former general were to be incarcerated, after several back and further arguments. (Blinky was honestly surprised that they hadn't just killed the changeling for making such a bold statement) It was, of course, Stricklander that had intervened. He suggested the idea of imprisoning them to use them for breaking Trollkind's spirit. As such, Blinky held a begrudging gratitude towards the changeling for preserving their lives._

* * *

 Blinky shook himself from the memories of that dreadful day, and hummed as he noticed the distinct silence hanging in the house.

He rose to his feet and undid the reinforcements he hadput in place and peered into the common area. Upon finding that the room was clear, he left his precarious safe haven, and checked the other parts of Bular's abode.

Upon finding that the bullish troll was nowhere to be found, Blinky settled down in a chair with a sigh.

So he had been left to his own devices once again.

How maddening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first official fic that isn't a reader insert. I hope I portrayed them correctly. I would appreciate the feedback, if anyone has some. And please let me know what you think of it!  
> Also, updates will be sporadic at best and mythical at worst.  
> School is kicking it into gear on me, and my mental state is precarious. I've cried I-don't-know-how-many times in this school year and I'm getting pretty fucking tired of it.  
> Anyway, I hope the readers are having a nice life and enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.  
> Also, if there are any spelling errors, please tell me. I was tired when I wrote this so there are bound to be some mess ups.


	2. Unseen Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How are the other Trollhunters faring?

Draal watched Nomura busy herself with interests and hobbies she had picked up during her time among the fleshbags, feeling irritation and pent up energy cackle within him. He had nothing to busy his hands, and far too much to busy his thought. He didn't want to think about the companions he had been forced to leave behind in the chaos that was the opening of Killahead Bridge. He _really_ didn't want to think about the dynamics between him and the changeling's who care he had been put under. And he most certainly did not want to think about how the resistance was faring.

So he turned his attentions to the things happening around him, becoming the unwilling observer.

However, he felt that he was going to lose his mind if he was forced to be idle a moment longer. He was beginning to seriously consider begging Nomura to take him somewhere – anywhere – so he could do something other than be haunted with thoughts of his comrades and their fates.

Across the room, the changeling woman flicked an ear and turned her head to the too quiet troll. He didn't bother to act like he hadn't been watching her, and she didn't seem to care that he had. They stared at each other for a moderate length of time, one pair of eyes filled with quiet contempt, and so many other, burning, icy emotions, and the other guarded, revealing next to nothing.

The only thing that gave away Nomura's thoughts was the occasional opening of her mouth before she thought better of it and closed it.

She eventually turned back to what she had been doing, both of them frozen with the awkward situation they were caught in.

When he had first been handed over to Nomura's care, neither off them had been quite sure about the dynamic of the arrangement, due to past . . . intricacies. At first, she had been a harsh - almost cruel - mistress, before it started to come to this. The two of them trying to ignore each other as best they could, but failing miserably, their attentions always falling back to the other.

And so the silence lapsed and rang once more and Draal was ready to get down on his knees as he had thought about doing before.

But of course, he couldn't swallow the last few shreds of his pride, not yet at least. So he was left to his own thoughts, as he had been in the last few months.

* * *

 Jim stared up at a corner of his cell, raising his head slightly and letting fall back against the unyielding stone, over and over again. His stomach heaved with anxiety and ached with hunger.

 _'The Gumm-Gumms really don't know how to take care of a human prisoner, do they?'_ Jim thought bitterly.

He stopped hitting his head on the wall as he heard voices from far down the hall. All three were low, but two were a bass while the third was an alto. He wasn't quite sure how vocal ranges operated with trolls, but he was willing to wager that the third was a female.

They started to become more coherent, speaking trollish, or the Darklands dialect, and coming closer. Jim hissed in a breath remembering the last time the guard rotated. He had been kicked in the ribs, leaving them incredibly sore, if not fractured (He wouldn't be surprised if they were) and he had been left with a face that was smeared with the painful colors of black and blue.

They came to the door after a momentary pause further up the hall. The complicated lock of the solid door went through it's series of clicks and clanks. And in walked one of the more striking trolls he had seen.

She – there was just something about her that alluded to her being on the more feminine side of the spectrum - had to be at least as tall as Bular, but she wasn't nearly as broad as the son of Gunmar. But she was just as intimidating as him, if not a little more so with the cunning lurking behind her four incandescent eyes.

They glowed softly, beads, horn adornments, scars, and metallic paint catching the warm light and flashing beautifully. Her skin refracted the glow as well, taking on an almost glass like appearance, reminding him of obsidian by the way her ashy stone skin looked.

Her horns caught his eye next. She had two sets, both nearly perfectly symmetrical. The more obvious pair were more like the antlers on a ten point buck, while the lower pair lazily looped around her ears, a small point breaking away at the base and following a softer curve, while the main bit followed down to an incredibly fine point just below her chin.

She moved across the small space with long strides of her feline looking legs, her long tail closing the door behind her. In fact, she generally reminded him of a jungle cat. The way her movements betrayed contained power and obvious grace just screamed it at him.

Before he knew it, as busy as he had been sizing her up, she was standing above him, and lowering herself to his level. The next thing was aware of was that his arms were free.

He grunted in discomfort as they dropped, before he rolled them and looked to this oddly terrifying troll.

Up close she wasn't nearly as terrifying as she looked to be in the doorway. In fact, she looked quite regal as her fiery eyes looked at him with quiet warmth and a hint of some deeply ingrained sorrow.

“I'm sorry about what happened.” She said softly, as if she didn't want to set off something, or, probably in this case, someone.

He stared at her, unsure what to make of this visit, and she stared back at him calmly, her eyes still excluding a comforting, sad glow. Eventually he sighed and put his head in his hands.

“I wish I could have done more.” He lamented, his voice cracking horribly from disuse.

“You did everything you could.” She soothed, reaching a hand out, hovering, but not touching. Still, Jim found the intense warmth she excluded to be comforting after such a long time in the cold and damp.

“And it still wasn't enough.” He spat bitterly, feeling his anger rise within him from some deep chamber hidden in his heart.

She gave a hum and he began to apologize for the hostility, before she shut him down, her eyes growing fierce and intense.

“I know it wasn't directed at me, so by all means, get angry. Be bitter.” She stated, before becoming a bit softer. “But don't put yourself down. You did everything within your power to keep the bridge from opening, and that's all anyone can ask of someone so young forced into a position that forced them to mature and place the fate of entire worlds on their shoulders.” She hissed, angry at the world for several reasons, many of which he couldn't fathom.

She became sad and melancholy again, silence ringing between them, both thinking of friends and family that they had been cut off from.

“I- I'm sorry.” She stuttered, referring to her invigorated rant, and Jim knew that if she was able to, she would be blushing with embarrassment.

The silence lapsed once more, the unnamed roll having the same air of embarrassment hanging around her.

Eventually she made a soft noise as she remembered something and stood up slightly, rummaging through the pouches on her belt. He silently watched as she produced salves and cloth bandages from one of them, and had a hard time keeping his hands to himself when the food and water materialized from another.

“Now.” She began in a soft voice. “Would you like to eat or be treated first?”

“Food first.” He stated firmly before glancing to her sheepishly. “If-if that's alright with you.”

She blinked all four eyes at once and chuckled. “I gave you the option. Why wouldn't be alright with me?” She asked with a small smile.

He offered the unnamed troll a nervous smile and snatched up the soft bread and cheese. He ate quickly, very nearly choking in his haste. Once he was done, the troll handed him the medium vial of water which she had uncorked from him. He downed every last drop as quickly as he had done with the food. Once he handed the vial back to her, she offered a piece of jerky. Jim politely shook his head, asking a question.

“Can I save it for later?”

“Of course.” She replied, putting the morsel in her hand back in the packaging and handing it to him. He shoved it into his back pocket and leaned back, wincing in pain as something shifted.

He heard something move and opened his eye to see that she was holding an unopened container of salve, seeming to wait for something.

She stayed like that for a while before Jim finally realized what she was waiting for.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He authorized sitting up more.

She dipped her head at him and opened the container in her hand. The pungent smell of whatever herbs and other things that had been used in the making of the salve filled his nostrils. She dipped her fingers her claws into the paste and looked to Jim.

“I'll tell you now, this will kill your sense of smell for a while.” She warned.

He nodded and she began applying the salve while explaining the effect it was supposed to have.

“This will get rid of any injuries within a day. It will feel strange at first, and begin to itch. How itchy it will become depends on the wound. Bruises and minor cuts will only tingle, while more serious injuries will feel like a painful . . .” She stopped, either not knowing the word in English or forgetting it. Most like the latter, Jim decided.

“A rash?” He supplied.

“Rash. Yes. It will feel like a painful rash.”

She finished quickly and wiped away the excess on the floor.

“Is there anything else?” She inquired.

“No, I'm goo- “ He stopped and winced as he shifted.

“You are a bad liar.” She observed.

He sighed and undid his jacket, which was miraculously still in one piece. She helped him with his shirt and hissed at the ugly coalition of black, purple, and blue decorating his sides.

She waited for his consent before she began to smear the pungent remedy to his side. She paused when he jerked away and held him still while she popped his ribs back into place. Once she finished with that, she began to tightly secure the cloth bandages. It made breathing a uncomfortable, but he knew it's purpose and appreciated the effort on the troll's behalf.

She packed the remaining supplies away and looked back to Jim.

“I'm going to have to put you back in your chains.” She said, a hint of guilt in her voice.

He gave a long suffering sigh, but obliged. The respite had been nice at least.

She locked them into place once more and looked at him with empathy. It was in that moment Jim realized that she knew what it was like to be chained. He could see where her physical chains had once been. They attached to the plated collar and the wrist shackles she wore, glittering gold and lacking chains at the moment. But at the same time he could almost see the chains wrapped around her haunted mind and broken heart.

They shared a nod of understanding and she turned to leave, her long, tapered tail swaying slightly.

Before she opened the door, he called out to her.

“Hey, what's your name?”

The striking troll turned and peered down at him, her face unreadable and distant. For a moment he feared that she wouldn't answer. But then she graced him with a half smile and spoke.

“You can call me Voss.”

“I'll see you when I see you, Voss.”

“Until next time.” She replied with a faint curve to her lips, before slipping through the crack in the door and disappearing with her escort.

Jim laid his head back against the wall. At least he seemed to have earned an apparent ally in this mess.

* * *

Aaarrrgghh has heard them coming and pressed away from the door. He saw a pair of antlers between two large Gumm-Gumm grunts and breathed a sigh of relief.

She wasn't a bad troll. She had been taken just like so many others had. She would understand what had happened. Would try to help. _Was_ trying to help.

It was a while before he heard them coming again, and he saw her head turn and her four eyes flash. She stopped and said something to her escort in the Darklands dialect of Trollspeak, which he was rusty with. She snapped something finally after the irritated growls and snarls, something about stressing the plural on 'prisoners' and how her visit wasn't finished yet.

The lock began to turn, and the vicious warrior turned meek pet was unceremoniously shoved into his cell, barely having enough time to sweep her tail out of the way before the door slammed shut.

She glared at the door with such focus from her four molten eyes that Aaarrrgghh was mildly surprised that it didn't melt a hole in the dark metal. She hissed under her breath.

“Useless brutes.”

She turned to him and the ferocious heat in her eyes faded, making her look weary and disheartened.

He began to speak, asking after his friends that he knew where in the Darklands with him. She pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head.

“I've only seen the Trollhunter. I do not know where the other is. Or at least I haven't set eyes on him yet.” She explained, since they both knew where Blinky was, but she still hadn't seen him.

He nodded sadly at this and hesitantly asked after Draal and Toby.

She put a hand on her chin and thought for a moment, her brows furrowing as she racked her memory of current events.

“I haven't seen any humans be brought in,” She looked to him and added clarification. “He would be noteworthy enough to be brought in for imprisonment, since he was there for the opening of the Bridge, but I do remember a troll fitting you description being taken from a battlefield. He was placed under the care of a changeling – what was her name... - anyway. He's alive and well, or...” She paused again, both of them melancholy due to their lot in life. “As well as he can be. His pride is bound to be suffering in his position.”

Yes, to be the pet of an Impure, less then dirt in the eyes of troll society, would be a massive blow to the pride of any troll. Being a Gumm-Gumm pet was degrading enough, but even more so be such a thing for a changeling.

There was a growl and his ally turned toward with a fierce scowl.

“I'm coming! Learn your thrice-damned virtues!” She snapped.

She blinked slowly at her words and sighed under her breath. “They're Gumm-Gumms. That was redundant.”

She turned to him again. “I have to go. I've been gone too long for my master's tastes.” She spat the second to last word with so much venom, Aaarrrgghh vaguely wondered in the troll in question had felt it.

She began to turn and the former general reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked to him curiously, flicking an ear as she heard her escort grumble to each other.

“Thank you. For help.” He said simply.

She turned to him fully and took the hand he had caught her with in both of hers. She looked him in the eye and gave him a kind, hopeful look, a perky half smile on her face.

“We've got to stick together, right?” She stated in return, that same look on her face, making her look like a bashful, doe-eyed lover.

He smiled lightly at her in return, nodding his head. “Right.” He affirmed.

There was another snarl and she sighed.

“I'll come see you when I can.” She said, releasing his hand and turning to the door, leaving quickly to make up for stolen time.

He lowered his hand a few seconds after she left, the comforting warmth of her touch still lingering on his skin.

“See you.” He said to the open air, knowing that farther down the hall, her ears were perking.

* * *

Toby didn't even look up as he heard someone sit across from him. He was once again staring off into space, worrying over his friends. He was the only one who had been at the opening of Killahead bridge that was still free. For all he knew, Jim, Aaarrrgghh, and Blinky were dead, and Draal was being interrogated for information.

Except he had no idea what had happened because he wasn't there. He SHOULD have been there. He shouldn't have left his friends' sides. He had promised Jim that he wouldn't, and he did.

There was a sharp slap to his face and he reacted by punching the small changeling that had done the slapping. He heard NotEnrique cursing in pain, and Claire's scolding.

“He wouldn't have hit you if you didn't slap him!”

“I got his attention, didn't I?!” the changeling's retort devolved into more cursing.

Toby regarded them both with a vaguely irritated look on his face as he rested his chin in his hand.

“Is there something you guys need?” He asked, his voice flat.

“We were-”

“YOU were.”

Claire glared at the foul mouthed changeling, but corrected herself. “I was worried about you. You haven't been looking so good Toby.”

“I've been fine, considering the circumstances.” He said, gesturing to the general area, encompassing the trolls and humans working around them.

After the opening of the bridge, it had been chaos. For humans and trolls alike. The survivors of the the first month or so had set aside their prejudices and fear of the unknown, and banded together to form a militia against the Gumm-Gumm horde. Trolls from across the world either came to Troll Market to join the main force of the resistance, or had began to set up their own bastions against the evil trolls. In some places, the humans were left to fend for themselves, but there were other places, such as Arcadia Oaks and Heartstone Troll Market, where humans and Trolls banded together.

The humans gave the resistance an edge, since they could scavenge and forage during the day, when there were very few trolls that could follow them. The trolls had the potential to fend off intruders, and were training extensively to take their stands against the enemy.

It was a nice set up, Toby mused. Across the way, Claire seemed unconvinced, if her deadpan expression was any indicator.

“No, I mean mentally. Are you okay? You lost you two best friends on the same day, and a few others, like your Nana.”

Toby pressed his lips into a thin line, clenching his pant legs. He watched tears blur his vision and he clenched his jaw.

“ _Thank you,_ ” He ground out through clenched teeth. “For reminding me of what happened to my family.”

Almost immediately, Claire began apologizing profusely for her tactlessness.

“I'm so, so sorry! I didn't mean it like that!” She exclaimed, before drawing into herself. “I was trying to ask if you want to talk about it, get your feelings off your chest instead of letting them stew...” She trailed off.

Toby blinked his eyes and let his tears fall away. She was no wingman, and he wouldn't feel comfortable disclosing his more personal thoughts, but he supposed that he should stop letting it stew. He should start getting it off his chest, before he exploded with everything going on in his head.

He was silent for a few moments longer before her answered. “Sure. Let's help keep each other sane.”

She looked up at him and smiled weakly, nodding to his words. “Sure.”

They both turned their heads when Barbara Lake called their names, asking for some help with a few things.

The two teens shared a look and hopped off their seats to do their fair share for the resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Sorry this took so long! I've been in a funk lately. Depression hits me like a bullet train, and once I recover from that, Anxiety hits me so hard that I start breaking doing at school.  
> Again, please tell me if I'm characterizing the characters right, given their circumstances.


	3. New Developments

When his father called him to the front lines, Bular had expected nothing more that freshly minted militia and a few talented warriors. Instead, he had been faced with the Penthesileans. No doubt here to recover their long lost champion. Or their remains.

He managed to drive them back for the night, but the implications that their involvement present were serious. The entire race was well-versed in the art of battle, and they have worked centuries to prefect their craft. And prefect it they had.

From the moment they were able to crawl, brawls were encouraged. All troll whelps tussled, but Penthesilean whelps learned the beginnings of their race's art by the time they were fourteen. Or so it was said. Not much was known about the Penthesileans since they were so private.

Nonetheless, when his father had made his first attempt to conquer the surface, they had proven to be a bitter enemy to face, and put his army decades behind schedule.

Or so he had been told. The eariler parts of his father's conquest were before his time.

He glared at the new scars that decorated his skin and snarled. He was distinctly aware of the chip in his left horn and silently swore that he would destroy the Penthesilean that had caused the damage.

Bular let his mind stray from a militaristic mindset and began to explore the possibilities of revenge once he got his hands on the infernal battle-mage.

Needless to say, he returned to his abode enraged and displeased. He spotted his pet reading one of the few fiction novels he had in his home. He thought he saw one of his eyes glance his direction, but he couldn't say for certain. Not that he really cared.

As he prowled over to claim a seat for himself, he looked over the paint and felt something in him release a pleased growl. And as he let himself fall into the seat, it turned into a distant purr.

He felt the smaller troll jolt and heard the book snap shut. Then he felt him begin to subtly move away. Bular grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him against his side. The bookish troll tensed and sat up straight, while Bular glared into the middle distance, contemplating gruesome things.

Then, once more, his mind began to wander, this time taking a turn down memory lane. Now, he tried not to be sentimental, but his current position reminded him of his youth, in some strange, obscure way. Pressed against a warm side, with a deep voice rumbling as his father told him stories...

He was speaking before he could process what he was thinking. “Read to me.”

The smaller troll began to sputter, and once again startled. Finally he spoke a single, incredulous word. “What?”

He shot the bookish troll an irritated look. “Read to me. Is that such a difficult task?”

'Well of course not! But - “

“Then read to me.”

There was a lull in the exchange, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the painted troll glance between the book and him.

“Would fantasy suffice?” He asked cautiously.

“Anything will do. Just read.” He huffed.

There was another small pause.

“Could you let me-”

“No.”

Bular heard him let out a long, resigned sigh, and he book open again. And as his pet settled into a rhythm, Bular closed his eyes and indulged his sentimental side.

He remembered listen to stories and recounting from both his parents. He would be laying against his mother's side as his father read him stories, or told him some of his own. Gunmar would hold him as his mother recounted her misadventures, re-enacting some of the actions she took. Sometimes, his mother would be holding him as she told him cultural stories of her people, and other times his father would be holding him and be telling him of the great warrior he would become. Listening to their tales was something he could fondly look back at without too much shame.

The next memory that he recalled with fondness was when his horns had started to grow in fully. His mother always indulged him and helped him adjust by letting him ram his head against her shins, sides and arms. Sometimes she even got on his level and let him knock his head against hers. His father did much of the same when he came back from battle.

But the best memory he had of his childhood was his very first. It was fuzzy, the small details lost in his long life, but it was still his favorite. He had been pulling on his mother's braids while she cradled him. The look on her face had been one of endearment and adoration, that special look only a carrier troll can give their child. They were joined by his father, then his mother handed him off to Gunmar as she adjusted something. He recalled his father looking at something he couldn't see with a strange expression, which he couldn't have known then and one he couldn't name now. Then his mother's face came back into his vision, and they both were looking at him with those looks parents got in a calm family moment.

He was pulled out of his mind's wanderings by the sensation of the smaller troll moving away.

“Finish it before you go.” There he goes again, speaking before thinking.

“There are only five chapters left.” He only knew that because it was a childhood favorite. Not that he was going to tell anyone that.

This time, he tuned in to the story instead of wandering through his childhood. The smaller troll's voice served to be very soothing, with as smooth and deep as it was, it was almost musical in a sense. For a moment, it struck him that he had never learned the bookish troll's name. He'd look into that later.

Once the book was finished, Bular released the painted troll and went about his business. He had to let his father know about the development of the Penthesileans. He sat at his desk and heard the smaller troll move about behind him while he glare at the paperwork in front of him.

He _despised_ paperwork.

Soon enough, he wrote the report he would personally deliver to his father. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and looked over the report, deeming it appropriate and making fit to leave.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a deep sing-song voice. “May I accompany you?”

Bular snapped his gaze to the smaller troll and saw him wince from its harshness, but he still, impressively, stood his ground.

That something from before growled possessively at the thought of his pet leaving the safety of his home. But then his eyes alighted upon the sigil on the shoulders of the troll's upper arms. There wasn't a Gumm-Gumm alive who wouldn't recognize his sigil, not when it so closely resembled one of his most prominent features. Besides, the bookish troll had enough sense to not run off during this show of . . . trust, as one might call it.

“Fine.” He ground out.

The smaller troll's face broke into a subdued grin, filled with relief and some other light emotion that he couldn't identify at a glance.

He turned away to make his final preparations. “Just stay close.” He huffed.

Bular heard him approach and shuffle about as he opened the door and stepped out. He grabbed a passing goblin and told it to inform Gunmar that his son was on his way to deliver a report. He then released the creature and watched it scramble away and glanced back at his pet. For a moment he was struck with how pleased the painted troll was to be out and about.

Then he shook his head slightly and turned begin the way to his father's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly because I like to get into everybody's heads. And to show the softer side of Bular, if it can be called soft.


	4. New Insight

As they made their way to their destination – which Blinky didn't even know, he just had to get out of there – He looked around at his surroundings. Most of the time, he turned his gaze back to Bular's back as he met eyes with other Gumm-Gumms, but he was able to tell that they were in the Darklands.

That fact was painfully obvious.

But he noted that there were considerably less Gumm-Gumms than anyone would have thought. There were still a large number, enough to form a functioning society, but their numbers weren't as overwhelming as they had been in the dark ages of troll history. He observed a marketplace, various different pubs, a few blacksmiths, and many homes. Most of which looked like they hadn't been used in years.

A sudden growl, and nearly colliding with his captor, took his attention away from the scenery and back to the dark troll in front of him. He peered around the son of Gunmar and saw what had aggravated him so. Another large Gumm-Gumm had stopped Bular in his path, a gruesome grin on his face. He couldn't understand was being said, due to the dialect, but once the new troll gestured to him and then put a talon on his own chest he suddenly realized what was going on.

After all, it didn't strike him as unusual that Gumm-Gumms traded the trolls they branded.

If Bular hadn't been in a bad mood already, it might've not back fired so spectacularly on the other Gumm-Gumm. But he was, and not only was this troll asking to take something he had claimed as his own, he was also in his to an important destination.

The next thing the historian was aware of was that the two brutes were locked in combat. He jumped away as Bular threw his opponent a considerable distance away. Which brought the other troll closer to him, so he quickly moved toward Bular to avoid his contender. He watched his captor jump forward and land heavily on the dazed troll, he couldn't see what happened next, the sound of cleaving stone and the scream of agony told him enough. Adding insult to injury – quite literally – Bular spat on the ground, indicating that this Gumm-Gumm was far beneath him.

Once the other troll was thoroughly put in his place, Bular casually placed an arm around the branded troll and turned them away from the scarred Gumm-Gumm to continue on their way. Once they were far enough away from the scene, Blinky smacked the hand on his upper shoulder. The claws there gave a possessive squeeze before falling away, lightly scratching over the sigil, as if to subtly remind him who he now belonged too.

The reminder made his skin crawl.

They continued on their way without further incident, but Blinky could not stray far, and thus was incredibly tense. Every time he tried to adjust to his comfort zone, the dark troll would grab him and make him stay put.

Eventually they came into view of a large building, and Blinky got the sense that was their destination.

His intuition was proven correct as they drew closer, and his dread grew the closer they came. He was beginning to regret asking to come along, since he had a sinking feeling he knew who lived here.

The receiving hall that they were in was open air, but it was almost more like a porch. A very large, intimidating porch, but a porch nonetheless. The door at the end was open, so the master of the house was clearly expecting them.

Upon entering the home proper, the historian noticed a number of trolls with metallic patterns, much like his, only in silver and gold with a dual pattern in a reflective black. One or two had blue patterns on their skin and tended to avoid eye contact with anyone. He also heard two voices in an intense back and forth conversation in the Darklands dialect.

The conversation quickly died down and turned into quiet murmuring. Finally the two conversationalists emerged from an attached hall, and Blinky went cold as he beheld them.

One of the conversationalists was Gunmar. For who else could he be with one blazing blue eye and he large horns?

The other was a female bedecked with gold jewelry and paints of black, blue, and gold. Four blazing eyes glanced around the area, and a long tail swayed behind her. The bookish troll was trying to think of what kind of troll she was. Her appearance was just like something he had once seen in a book, if he could just remember what it was!

He was drawn out of his mussings when he heard Bular speak, addressing the two trolls. Or just Gunmar, since the Gumm-Gumm warlord stopped after a few steps and crossed his arms, waiting for his son. The female kept walking towards them, her eyes shifting from Bular and then to him, where he stood a respectable distance away.

When she got to where Bular was standing, she reached out a hand and ran it up his forearm while the Gumm-Gumm quietly regarded her with a single word in the Darklands dialect. She gave him a warm look, and removed her hand. Only then did he begin to prowl to where his father was standing. She looked back at the two large trolls for a moment before making her way to where Blinky stood.

Once she came to where he stood, she spoke. “While those two talk business, would you like to sit and talk with me?”

“I-I suppose I could.” He stuttered.

She gave a small smile and nodded her head to the side, and turned to walk in the direction she had indicated. With little other options, the historian followed after her.

While walking the short distance to the large couch, Blinky looked over this strange troll over.

She was large, large in the way a jungle cat was large when they were on two legs. She gave off the same air as one as well, that of great strength and unsurpassable grace.

But she was very striking to look at, while all her attributes coming together to make one enigmatic whole. The antlers atop her head, five points each, were banded with gold, and the downward swooping horns were decorated with gold and jewels. Her long ears flicked at almost every little sound, the crystal hanging from the piercing swaying with the movement.

Her glassy skin, a smoky gray color, was at odds with the paints decorating her body, crystalline scars shrouded by the designs, but not fully hidden. There was an especially notable scar on the left side of her face, tracing over the upper eye.

He glanced down at her legs, noticing their feline look, with the way they bent and the large paws they ended with, complete with three inch black claws.

Her hands ended in the same sort of claws, but he was able to discern spot that were slightly darker and less glassy then the rest of her. His brows furrowed together at this. It had to be a trick of the light but…

' _How peculiar...'_   He thought, sitting down while his companion situation herself.

Once she had done so, she turned her incandescent gaze to him, reminding him of his captor's volcanic gaze.

“What's your name?” She asked, tilting her head and making the two beaded braids sway with the movement.

“Blinky.” He answered immediately answered, foregoing his full name.

“Nickname I presume?”

“Yes.” He answered shortly.

“I'm Vossnell.” She replied, holding out a hand for him to shake.

He cautiously took her hand and found himself surprised with how warm her touch was, once again reminding him of Bular. Speaking of which. . .

“What's your relationship with Bular?”

Vossnell tensed ever so slightly at the upfront question, and Blinky felt a flash of mortification for being so crass. A few of the other painted trolls glanced their way, and quickly looked again again. He opened his mouth to apologize but she gave a dry chuckle and sighed.

“I'm his mother.” She said, a far off look in her eyes.

He stared at her and began to see the slight resemblance Bular had to her. The blazing eyes, red irises surrounded by magma orange, were an indicator. His horns must've been some sort of combination between his parents, while his mane must've come from Vossnell, with the deep ash grey jutting out around her head.

But other than those characteristics, Bular most definitely his father's son.

A curse sounded from the hall the two Gumm-Gumms disappeared down, and Vossnell turned her head, her twin braids swinging and catching the light. He followed them with his eyes as she listened to her son's father curse.

“By the Fathomless. What's got him so pissed?” She wondered.

Blinky snapped his eyes to her face. There was only one breed of troll that used that saying.

She eventually turned back to the historian and Blinky as she caught his stupefied stare. “What? What is it?”

“By Deya's Grace, you're a Penthesilean, aren't you?

Vossnell's face as blank before her eyes lit up, more closely resembling the Heartstone than fire, and she smiled brightly.

“Yes! I'm their Champion!” She exclaimed, before the light behind her eyes was snuffed. “Or I was at least. They've probably made a new pair of beads and chosen a new Champion by now.”

She sighed dejectedly and swooped her tail to curl in her lap, playing with and twisting her beads. A split second later, she looked irritated and offended with herself, sweeping her tail away and curling her hands into fists. The Penthesilean glared off into the middle distance for a while, before snapping out of her strange stupor and shifting her mellow gaze back to him.

“What about you? What did you do before all of this?” She asked, sounding as if she were somewhere else.

Still, Blinky jumped at the opening she granted him.

“Oh, well, mostly I worked as a historian, taking an odd job here and there, but in more recent months I've been training the Trollhunter. He just turned 16 a few months back, you know.” He said, his voice becoming soft towards the end of his reply.

“16?!” She repeated in horror. “By the Fathomless, he's only a _baby_. I know humans live short lives but. . . !”

From there, they told the other about their lives before they were branded, and Blinky happily listened to her stories among her community, asking for clarification about certain things and storing away the information he learned about her breed of troll.

They were both smiling and enjoying the others company – Vossnell's eyes aglow with enthusiasm, and Blinky's voice imbued with relief for a decent conversation partner – by the time the father-and-son duo came back. Blinky noticed them first, since Vossnell's back was directed toward the two, and thus saw Gunmar directing an oddly soft look towards the antlered troll. He also saw Bular staring at him with an unidentifiable expression.

Noticing his distracted gaze, Vossnell's grin faltered slightly and she looked over her shoulder. And he watched as the light in her eyes guttered out and her grin faded to a grim smile.

She turned back to him and he was struck with how life-weary she looked.

“I believe that's our cue.” She hummed as she stood up.

“I believe it is.” He replied, following her lead.

They made small talk as they walked toward their respective masters, almost ignoring the two dark trolls as they spoke. Bular grunted, said farewell to his father and grabbed one of Blinky's arms. The historian yanked the restrained limb away and begrudgingly followed.

“I hope to see you see you soon, Blinky.” Vossnell called after him.

He turned his head and gave a small smile in return to the casual one on her face. “Yes, to you as well!”

She gave him a short nod while blinking in a rather feline fashion. She then turned to her son and nodded to him as well, an smirk on her face that only she could get away with because she was his mother. He heard Bular huff, but say something to her in the Darklandish dialect. She chuckled and turned away, heading somewhere deeper into Gunmar' home.

Blinky turned away as well, walking away before Bular could pull him a long.

Things weren't looking as bleak as before.

(He wanted to say things were looking up, but he didn't want life to take it as a challenge.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Disregard the notes below this one. I don't know how to make it go away.)  
> And we're are back to Blinky!  
> Vossnell is the OC addition to this story, and I may make a story centered around her if anyone is interested. Basically her back story all the way up to the finale in Trollhunters and Canon compliant. Mainly, I have a lot of battles, banter,, threats, and badass fuck you's I wanna write.  
> Anyway, school's out, so I might have more time too write, but don't expect much, because my muse is a smoke cloud who is gone most days.  
> Anyway, as always, feedback is appreciated!


	5. Domestic Oddity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An average day with Blinky?

As he flitted over the titles in Bular's meager collection for one Vossnell recommended and claimed he had, Blinky hummed an absentminded but up beat tune. He could sense Bular's occasional glances, but ignored him completely. He wasn't about to let the Gumm-Gumm warrior sour the first bit of happiness he had felt in what had seemed like centuries.

He paused in his searching and felt no small bit of dread at the thought. What if it _hadn't_ been mere months since the opening of the bridge? He didn't have a sense of time in the Darklands, not a very good one at least. What if it had been years? Decades even?

His hand hovered over a book he had read at least thrice as his contentment curled like a withered flower and died in his chest. He picked up the book for a fourth time and moved to sit down, moving as if guided by a phantom wind.

The book was absently opened, and he began skimming over the words. He read the contents without absorbing a single word. Nothing formed in his mind at the imagery, and no ideas spawned in his mind. He was on 'autopilot' as some humans might put it.

But then the book was taken out of his hands, and his head craned to see Bular looming over him, a look of irritation on his face.

Great gronka morcia. What had he done to warrant that expression on his captor's face? Were there books he wasn't allowed to touch? If so, what was the problem now? He had read that book several times. But never in Bular's presence, so maybe – ?

His panicked thought process was cur short as the dark stroll spoke.

“What's wrong?”

His tone was laced with the same irritability on his face, but – Blinky may be suffering auditory illusions – his voice was almost soft. Or as soft as a Gumm-Gumms voice could get.

The historian only stared for a while before finally coming to his senses as the troll before him growled.

“It's nothing, I just – How long has it been?”

Bular blinked, and ever-so-slightly tilted his head in question. (Blinky vaguely wondered if he had picked up the behavior from his mother)

“S-Since the opening of Killahead.”

“A few months. At most.”

Relief swept through the smaller troll, taking the heavy weight in his gut with it.

“Oh thank heavens.” he muttered, nearly slumping over with the feeling coursing through him.

Only to look up and swear that Bular was leaning closer.

And, not knowing what to do with the intensity he saw in the other troll's eyes, he resorted to the sarcasm that was quickly becoming a defense mechanism.

“Is there anything else I can help you with Bular?”

The Gumm-Gumm hovered for a few more moments as his eyes shifted about the painted troll's face, before backing away and returning to what he had been doing.

Blinky stared after him and, well, blinked.

' _That was strange.'_ He decided.

But he stood up and resumed his search.

* * *

This was aggravating.

He had comb the common area shelves' at least three times now. Every time he did, nothing new yielded, except for the books he had added after finding them strewn about. He didn't have any books on the shelves in his room, and he had been warned against trying to check Bular's chamber. Both by his new accomplice (Friend was an unsure term.) and his own common sense.

However he recalled what she said if he couldn't find it anywhere in the house that was deem 'safe', he should have Bular take him to market.

He glanced over at the troll and saw he seemed to be making a list for something.

 _'A bounty list perhaps...'_ He thought ruefully.

Blinky quickly shook his head at the spiteful thought and set to work plucking up his courage. And given that his courage nowadays was composed of anger and spite, it wasn't too difficult to muster.

He took a steadying breath, and looked over the Gumm-Gumm for any body language that might warrant caution.

For the most part, Bular was calm he continued jotting down things for his list, and – after a bit of quiet straining – Blinky was able to read a few of the words on said list. And nearly snorted over how unexpectedly domestic a _grocery list_ was.

Now it was time to break the silence.

“Bular?”

“Hmm...”

“May I accompany you to market?”

Bular looked over his shoulder to regard him with narrowed eyes.

“Is there any reason you wish to?”

He'd better word this carefully...

“Well, Vossnell and I have been discussing books we've read, and she's been recommending some particular titles to me that I seem to be unable to find here...” He let his explanation trail off as Bular's mildly suspicious face shifted to contemplation.

“... Very well.” He eventually answered, turning to finish his list.

Blinky grinned at the small victory, while noting that his new companion's advice was sound.

* * * * * *

_“And if he refuses to take me?” He countered._

_“Just tell him that I've been sending you after some particular title, and I guarantee he'll take you.” The Penthesilean Champion said, fiddling with the hair around her horns._

_“How do you know?” He asked, skepticism clear in every way._

_“For all he is harsh and brutal, Bular loves both Gunmar and I,” She replied with a soft smile, “He'll do things to please us. It's part of the reason he did most anything Stricklander said.”_

_“Fair enough.” He mumbled._

* * * * * *

He was pulled from the memory of that exchange by the soft clinking of coins in a pouch, and looked over to see Bular rising from his seat.

Wordlessly he rose and fell in line behind him as he moved toward the door.

With a quick glance over his shoulder at Blinky, Bular opened the door and stepped out. Blinky, of course, trailed after him.

* * *

The way to the market wasn't as eventful as the trip to Gunmar's home, but it did have a charged air about it like the first excursion. Only instead of dread, this trip was steeped with anticipation which grew the closer they came to the market place. When they were in sight of it, the babbling of various vendors and bartering customers was a moderate roar, Once they were in the the throng of it all, it was overwhelming. And prompted Bular to casually sling an arm around his upper shoulders.

With a scowl that had considering trolls (considering _what_ , he didn't want to know) hastily turning their attention elsewhere, Blinky attempted to shrug off his hand. When that failed to work, he removed Bular's hand with one of his own.

Gunmar's son shot him a quick glare, and wrapped the hand he had batted away around one of his left wrists. The historian huffed at the failure, but relented the contact, seeing as it was the only thing keeping him from being lost in the crowd of Gumm-Gumm trolls and their pets.

Speaking of which...

He glanced about at the trolls and changelings covered in gold and silver designs. He occasionally saw some with other colors, such as copper or bronze, or even metallic colors such as red or purple. And he could have sworn that he had seen Draal's imposing bulk and his massive horns, but he could not have said for certain.

Done observing his surroundings, he turned his attention to Bular and how his head was swiveling side to side, evidently looking for something.

He startled as Bular snapped around to look at him.

“You and Mother make the strangest requests. I don't even know where the blasted stand _is_ anymore. They've rearranged everything.” The last bit was more to himself than an explanation for Blinky.

The smaller troll blinked as the warrior turned his attention back to the stands.

 _'That was . . odd.'_ Blinky decided.

* * *

Eventually, through Bular shouldering his way through the crowd and growling at a few stubborn trolls, they found the book stand. Business must've been slow, for the stand owner jolted awake and blinked blearily at the two of them. Once they recognized the son of Gunmar, all dregs of sleeps left their face and they sprung to their feet to greet them. Bular grunted and released the grip he had on Blinky.

“I'll be back soon. Stay here.” He huffed at the six eyed troll.

Then he turned to the stand owner and growled something at them in the Darklands dialect. And with that, the larger troll began making his way back through the crowd.

Blinky turned to the array of books and began searching for one of the titles his ally had recommended. He hoped this proved more fruitful than the search in his captor's home.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” He heard the vendor tentatively ask.

He glanced up and saw the vendor nervously wringing their hands. They must've been without customers for a long while to be this awkward when someone did come to look at their wares.

“I believe there is. An acquaintance of mine has been pointing me in the direction of some titles I haven't been able to locate on my own.”

He watched the vendor brighten at his words, jumping onto the opportunity. He tried not to smile as he gave the titles, watching the vendor pile the book in front of him as soon as he said them. The poor troll probably had nothing better to do except take inventory and sleep.

The taller troll leaned on the stack of books and gave a smug smile. Blinky's opinion of the troll quickly soured as soon as he saw the grin. And it soured even more so by the next words out of their mouth.

“These will be a total of 50 gold coins.”

“That's outrageous!” Blinky blurted, bracing his first set of arms against the table.

“Hey, business is slow. Have to put bread on the table somehow.” The troll drawled.

Blinky's eyes narrowed at them.

Their grin widened a few teeth.

Then the bartering began.

* * *

“40 gold as low as I'm willing to go.” The vendor grunted.

“They're still ridiculously overpriced!” The historian hissed in return.

“If business wasn't so shoddy, I wouldn't have to raise the prices.”

“If the prices weren't so high, maybe you would have more business!”

They glared at one another for a number of moments, before a fleeting idea came to Blinky.

“If I tell you who's been recommending the books, will you reconsider?” If he was correct about this, then Vossnell's reputation may proceed her. She definitely intimidated the other trolls in Gunmar's home.

“Sure, go ahead. See if it does anything for ya.”

That sleazy, indulgent tone was ire-inducing.

“Vossnell. Do you know her?”

The vendor's face changed, going from smug to shocked.

“I-I haven't seen her in a century. She used to be one of my regulars...” they murmured.

So he had been right about her repuation.

The vendor heaved a deep sigh, running a hand over their face, before looking back to him.

“Alright. Since any friend of Vossnell's is a friend of mine, I'll sell 'em to you for a 16 coins.”

Four gold coins a book for four books? That was almost a steal.

Blinky held out one of his hands to seal the deal, and set to wait for Bular to return.

Luckily it wasn't too long, but Blinky nearly did a double take at the bulging sack slung over his shoulder. He had know it would be there, but it still caught him off guard.

This was far too domestic for his tastes and circumstances.

“16 gold coins for the pet's books.” The vendor said quietly.

“I am not a pet!” Blinky cried at the same time as Bular said. “14 silver.”

The vendor visibly swallowed as they looked Bular over. "14 silver, right, my mistake.”

Now that _was_ a steal.

The Gumm-Gumm grunted and handed the pay over, while Blinky snatched one of the books away before Bular put them in to the sack. And with all their business taken care of, the larger troll grabbed one of the historian's arms and began making their way through the thinning crowd.

* * *

The next time he saw his accomplice was when she had come to visit. Flanked by two guards.

Bular looked slightly miffed that she was there at all, but greeted her mush like he had when Blinky had met her.

She offered her son a smile, which was met by a softening face and a nod, before he stepped out the door to attend to things unknown to Blinky. She quickly sat down near him, an eager expression on her face and a question falling from her lips.

“Have you read any of them yet?”

Blinky chuckled at her and shook his head. “I'm in the middle of one now. The other three are adorning the shelves in my room, waiting for their turn.”

“Ah, alright.”

'Why are there guards with you? Does Gunmar believe another troll will abduct you?”

Vossnell's face went blank and cold, and Blinky regretted asking.

“No. He does that to ensure I don't run away.”

“Oh...”

“Yes. 'Oh'. Could you imagine it? The runaway prize mare?” She hissed, before laughing bitterly.

“I see you're very bitter about our unfortunate arrangements.”

“Aren't you?”

“Of course.”

“Do you want to talk about something else?”

“Please.”

She changed the subject without missing a beat.

“How did you like the market?”

“It was loud and chaotic. There were several shady stands.”

She blinked at his description, and settled her head into her hand.

“Sounds different from how it was before I wrecked it.”

Blinky looked at her incredulously over her words. She shrugged sheepishly.

“That's what I'm told. I only remember coming to in a wrecked market.”

Blinky nodded slight, before he thought of something.

“The book vendor knew you well it seems.”

“Oh yeah. I was a regular, and I liked talking with him.”

“Why'd you stop?”

“I was banned from the market after I wrecked it. I found out after I was let out of solitary confinement.”

Upon seeing the haunted expression on her face at the mere mention of the punishment, the historian reached a hand out to her.

“Vossnell?”

The Penthesilean suddenly took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked over to him.

“Yeah?” She asked softly.

“Are you alright?”

She looked to her hands, fidgeting with her fingers as the tip of her tail began to flick back and forth.

“Penthesilean are very social. Normally we don't do well alone. It's worse when we're alone in a crowd. More so when none of them are like you.”

She fell silent as she stared at her hands, her eyes like dying embers.

“By the Fathomless. I'm going to have to relearn how to be a Penthesilean.”

She stared silently at her hands, before lighting back up, like a switch had been flipped.

“Enough about me and my problems. How about you? How have you been?”

“As well as I can be I suppose.” He slowly replied, puzzling over the mask she was wearing and the cracks that lied in it.

From there, they talked about what came to mind, both of them dancing around the heavier subjects of discussion, not yet ready to voice their experiences. They debated over the worth of several books and the writing styles of various authors, they compared the training regimes of Penthesileans and Trollhunters.

* * *

_“How do they expect whelps to complete the Rite if they have **no training!?** ”_

_“We believe that one should play to their strengths. Penthesileans have to trust their instincts and their sensibilities. When they get back, they train around the tactic that worked from them. For me, it was my strength and quick thinking. For one of my old friends, it was her stealth and cunning.”_

_"It still seems counterproductive." Blinky hummed skeptically._

_We believe that one should play to their strengths." Vossnell reiterated._

* * *

Blinky ranted about the absurdities of humans and how backwards they tended to be towards things different from them, with Vossnell providing commentary where she deemed it appropriate.

* * *

_“They did **what?** ”_

_Blinky was sure she would have paled if she was able._

_“Yes, horrible, I know.”_

_“They weren't **nearly** this horrid when last I was on the surface.”_

_“At least, not that you knew of.”_

_“Not that I knew off, you're right.”_

* * *

And it eventually turned to filling her in on the happenings of history since the initial closing of Killahead Bridge.

After he had done that, he watched as she stared at him with wide eyes, before slowly putting her head in her hands. He glanced down as he saw her tail wrapping around one of her legs. He looked back up and swallowed, suddenly wanting to know something.

“Vossnell?” He said over her muttering (In yet another dialect he wished to learn.)

“Hmm?”

“What... What was it like raising Bular with Gunmar?”

She looked up and looked at him without turning her head. Then her eyes turned forward into the middle distance. Silence rang as Blinky waited patiently for her to answer. When he was beginning to feel nervous and think about retracting the question, she finnally spoke.

“It was . . . oddly domestic.”

Her tone was soft and her eyes were distant. Then her eyes refocused and she leaned back in her seat.

“Or. . . as domestic as it could be when he was marching against the known world.”

At that point, Bular returned, slamming open the door and stalking in. He looked directly at the Penthesliean Champion as he began to speak.

“You've overstayed your welcome, Mother.”

Both Blinky and Vossnell stared at him for a moment, the latter's ears swiveled forward. Shock permeated the air at the rudeness in which he addressed one of his parents.

The Blinky watched as Vossnell's eyes narrowed and her ears went back to their default position as she glared at her son. And he watched Bular's face morph from his usual scowl and glare, to surprise at his own tone, and then finally a sheepish expression. (Which Blinky never thought he would see on his face.)

“I mean... Father is expecting you back.”

She kept her hard stare on him until he looked properly regretful. Then she rose to her feet with a sigh.

“Very well.”

She turned to back to the historain and smiled slightly. “It was nice to to talk to you, Blinky.”

He returned the smiled and nodded. “To you as well.”

Then she walked past her son, brushing a hand over his arm like when Blinky had first seen her. Her tail pulled the door closed after her, and in an instant, Blinky was left alone with Bular.

He quickly got to his feet and left before the larger troll could turn his attention to him, and left to pick up where he had left off with his new books.

But even behind closed doors, he thought he could feel the weight of Bular's stare crawling along his skin. He was used to it by now anyway, but it was still unnerving, and he didn't want to know the reason behind the near constant sensation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bluh, sorry 'bout the wait. I don't write the much in my free time unless I have stuff written down and I can transcribe it onto my computer. And I've just gotten back to school, so now I write in my free time during classes and lunch and all that.  
> So anyway, here's the next chapter. I'll maybe start on the next one tomorrow, if I can think of a starting point with any of the characters.  
> Feel free to leave suggestions if you guys wanna see anyone in particular, or something with that character.


	6. Parental Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bular's feeling conflicted, and seeks advice, wanted or not, from dear ol' Mom and Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized dialogue is the Penthesilean dialect, while the regular is either Darklandish, or English, whichever floats your boat.

Bular glared at the order before him, feeling incredibly inclined to throw it into the hearth. And he would have if had been sent by anyone other than his father. And mother, he supposed, once he saw her sharp and bold handwriting littered throughout the letter. So instead of doing that, he huffed a breath out through his nose and filed the offending parchment away.

Then he stood and made his way to his chambers to adorn himself with the barest of amount of formal military trappings. He saw no need for it, but it had become something of a tradition among the upper ranks of Gunmar's horde. He personally thought it was some convoluted way to worm into his father's favor. Or an ill thought attempt to turn his mother's attention away from Gunmar and unto them.

He snorted over the thought and set about replacing his arm bands with ones that matched his harnesses, with a blocky, exaggerated skull leading slightly onto the back of his hand. A small adjustment, but noticeable enough considering his preferred, practical style. And with one last look at himself in the mirror of his room, he scoffed and made to leave for his father's strategy conference.

As he stepped out into the common area again, he thought he felt someone's eyes on him. A glance showed him that was not the case, and his pet – Blinky – was still reading one of his recent purchases. Some obscure part of him grumbled, but he stamped it down and headed for the door.

One foot was already over the threshold when he threw a statement over his shoulder at the blue – Teal? - troll. “I'm stepping out for a time. I'll be back in two or six hours.”

He didn't stay to see if the historian even heard him, closing the door quickly, and departing even more so. Once he was slowed down, Bular growled and ran his claw over his face.

What was wrong with him? He didn't need to justify his comings and goings to his pet! He hardly justified anything to anyone! His parents were the obvious exceptions to the rule, but why did he do such with the troll he owned?

He let out a chuckle at the outrage the last though would have sparked in the bookish troll. Then he quickly shook his head to banish the thought before anything more could come from it. He didn't need those sort of intrusive thoughts distracting him from this gathering. The chiefs would take up enough of his focus without them clouding his mind.

The mere thought of trying to keep them from jumping at each others throats was enough to cause phantom pains to form behind his eyes. He hated politics. They were necessary in his position, but he hated them all the same.

His thought process then became occupied with calculating every thing that could go wrong on an inter-personal level, and how the conflicts would be resolved. Afterall, his father would demand some semblance of order if they were to be planning against the Penthesileans, as he assumed they would be.

So caught in the imagined scenarios, he only came out of his reverie when he knocked shoulders with another troll. They growled at him and he snarled at them in return, only to glare and bare his teeth when he realized that he had seen this Gumm-Gumm before. The scar covering half his face was a very good indicator.

The troll flinched away as they took in his face and all but scurried away in the other direction. Serves them right. They saw his sigil on his pet's skin and yet they still proposed trading! He still had some paint left, so maybe he could enforce the fact... For a split second, images of a dark claw trailing down blue stone flashed in his mind, leaving trails of copper in their wake.

He quickly, and violently, shook away that train of thought. He had claimed the bookish troll as a pet to simply get under the Trollhunter's skin. That was his only motive. To have the boy writhing in anguish as he imagined the tolls he was putting his mentor through. That was it.

So with his mind settled for the time being, he entered his father's fort, and made his way to the war room. Where his mother immediately descended upon him, thus saving him from _socializing_ with the chiefs and lords. Though several of the younger ones who had preened for the event looked miffed that she hadn't spared them even a moment's notice. So he was correct about the lords wanting his mother's attention.

“ _Bular, so sorry about the other day_.” She opened in her people's dialect.

It took him several moments to wrack his memory for the lessons she had imparted to him. During which his mother patiently waited. It took him longer still to recall the pronunciations to reply to her.

“ _What's done is done_.” He huffed and she nodded in agreement.

Then she cast cunning eyes toward him and analyzed him as she would when he was a whelp and he was hiding something from her. In response, he stiffened slightly, and it was the worst possible thing he could have done in that moment. He swore that he heard his father muffle a laugh from somewhere far to the right.

Her eyes narrowed in a way that was hauntingly reminiscent of his own glares, her tail swayed back and forth and her mouth twisted into a half smile. And a sinister one at that.

“ _Is something the matter, my son_?”

He entertained the thought of lying to her for a moment before abandoning the idea. His mother was formidable even at the best of times, and he wasn't fond of the idea of invoking her ire by trying to deceive her.

“ _I suppose one could say that_...” He rumbled in defeat.

Her half smile became a knowing smirk and she moved her weight onto one leg.

“ _Is it about Blinky_?”

Even though nobody around them could understand the dialect they were speaking in, Bular still glanced around while Vossnell chuffed in affectionate amusement. Once he got over the sense that someone was eavesdropping, he turned back to her and could only nod helplessly.

“ _So what's troubling you about him_?” She hummed, molten eyes soft.

He could always trust his mother to go from mischief to concern within the span of a second. Even if it was almost whip-lash inducing.

“ _It's... difficult to explain_.” He finally replied.

“ _Try me. Quickly, nearly all of the chiefs and generals have turned out_.”

“ _Well_...” He paused to huff, “ _I'm having conflicted_... _feelings_... _over his mere presence. I should not be feeling this, this ._..!”

“ _Possessive_?” She offered.

“ _Precisely_!” He snarled.

“ _Do you want him to be more than a spiteful pet to you_?”

Bular snapped his eyes to her calm face and growled uselessly at her.

“ _Well, do you_?”

“ _I-I don't know. I suppose_.” It's only with his mother that he show this level of vulnerability, even if it didn't sound like it to onlookers.

“ _Maybe like something you and Father have_.” He admitted.

Ever so slightly, his mother stiffened and her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. Then in the next instant it was gone, and he almost dismissed it as a trick of the eyes. He would have if he didn't have such a keen pair. But she continued on smoothly and he decided to leave her to her own.

“ _Well I don't know about something like Gunmar and I. Blinky and I are very different creatures, and you are your own troll, no matter how much you have in common with your father._ ”

He nodded slowly in return to her words. “ _So what would you suggest_?”

He watched as his mother relaxed, her face becoming startling mellow for her character. “ _Try asking him about his new books; Does he like them? Which one does he prefer over the others? What genres does he like? Things like that. Or you could give him new ones so that he's not constantly rereading old ones. I could throw a list together, if you like_.”

“ _That would be appreciated. Thank you Mother_.” He hummed, knowing his face was relaxed in a way he only got around her or Gunmar.

“ _Oh it's no problem, Bular. And let Blinky warm up to you before you make advances on him_.” His mother smiled, leaving him to sputter inarticulately at her implication.

Then she wrapped her claw around his arm as much as she was able and pulled him along with her as she moved to the conference table.

“Come on. Your father's about to call the meeting together.”

He gently wrenched his limb from her grasp and trailed after her, sitting to his father's right as indicted by his mother's tail. She came to stand to his father's left, before he pulled her closer until she was practically perched on the armrest with his arm still wrapped around her waist. A very deliberate gesture, directed at the officers that looked her way just a little too long.

Bular silently thanked his father for that strategic move, simply because if it had continued on, he would have started plucking out eyes.

From that very clear statement, opening announcements rolled about and he practically felt he eyes glaze over with the formalities. He knew what this was about. He had fought against the enemy they were discussing, and he knew they would need a calculated plan of attack against them. He was still plotting revenge against that infernal Penthesilean battle-mage.

So when he heard his name mentioned with slightly more force than necessary, he tuned back in and gathered what he would speak next. Understandable, since he had been one of the ones that had recently faced the Penthesileans, and had been the only one to return.

So when there was enough of a lapse for him to take his cue, he cleared his throat. The disbelieving mutters that had filled the room quieted. Only quieted and he growled for them to fall silent.

Once the whispers finally desisted, he began speaking, telling them of the ferocity he had been faced with. The flawless execution of so many fighting styles in a single unit. And as soon as he finished speaking, his words were immediately rebuked with the claim that the Penthesileans had to have gone extinct during their exile. Then the young lords' elders started to berate them for that claim, countering it by saying that even if their low birth rate had degenerated into sterility, their would still be a population to take part in battle. Then the arguments degenerated into utter chaos.

Both Bular and Gunmar pinched the area just above their noses. This wasn't unexpected. It would be best for them to let them blow off some steam for a while and see if they could glean anything even remotely helpful from the mess before them.

So the time ticked by and Bular murmured quietly to his father about the excellent point of splitting up the 'supposed units'. But another few minutes passed, and it became apparent that the lords and chiefs were squabbling for the sake of squabbling.

The two males shared an annoyed glance, and Bular saw that his mother's face was set in an expression of fury and indignation, her eyes slit in a glare and smoldering with irritation. As his own ire grew, he felt a growl rumbling in his throat, and he cast a disdainful look at the others at the table. His father was undoubtedly doing the same. But before either of them could so much as take a breath to reestablish order, a roar like a jungle cat filled the room.

With wide eyes he snapped his attention back to his mother as her pale gray fist slammed down on the table. Her four eyes spat fury like an erupting volcano, and her fangs were silently bared.

Before all the chatter had faded, even before her roar had finished echoing, she was speaking.

“Cease your petty squabbling and heed your Warlord's words!” She snarled. “He and his son have actually fought, survived, and _won_ against the enemy you are speaking about in rhetoric!”

Her voice lost its frevor, and she leaned back from the table. “And as for those doubting the existence of Penthesileans, “ She slowly cast her hellish glare about the table before opening her arms and forming her snarl into a just as threatening grin, “You're looking at one right now.”

Next she scowled, her eyes still smoldering with fury and flame, and smacked her hands back to the table.

“Now would you kindly quit talking about my people in the rhetoric, and recognize the threat they pose to your plans for the surface world?” She hissed.

She was met with shell-shocked silence, and Bular distantly noted that she had just reiterated why she was considered the most desirable female in the Darklands. That point was driven further when his father laughed heartily and pulled her closer until she was seated his his lap.

“Well said, my dear.” He rumbled in approval.

Vossnell only smirked triumphantly, glaring out over the table and putting the fear of a higher being into those assembled.

Then Bular himself chuckled and turned to the gathered commanders. “I believe this warrants _intelligent_ discussion.”

Better to let them deal with the devils in the details. He would be there to execute the plans they came up with. Luckily, his father realized this, and didn't call him to speak in this setting.

So instead, he returned to his fantasy of getting revenge on the battle-mage who had taking a fragment of his horn as some sort of trophy. He vaguely noticed that his mother was scribbling down things on a spare piece of parchment, and mused it might be the list she mentioned.

The debates went on and on, but eventually, he was able to rise from his seat as the meeting came to an end. He took a moment to shake the stiffness as the lords and chiefs filed out, faces contemplative. Leaving only himself, his parents, and a few foolishly hopeful stragglers. Finally the stragglers left as he and Gunmar glared at them, and Vossnell didn't glance their direction. Finally, his mother finished whatever list she was making. She and Gunmar rose, and she handed him the paper.

“I'm sure Blinky will like at least eight of these.” Was what she said to him.

Then she rose her chin slightly, resting a hand on his forearm, and he bowed his head for her. She chuffed in appreciation as she chinned the top of his head, and looked at him appraisingly when she finished.

“Tread lightly Bular. Smart trolls like Blinky will find ways to make you regret scorning them.” She advised in a rather ominous fashion.

Then she smiled brightly and tipped her head to him. “Until next time, son.”

She departed quickly, and left him with his father, who clearly knew his son had a question for him, but was going to let him get around to it in his own way.

“Just how many of the lords want Mother's undivided attention again?”

Gunmar barked out a laugh, and looked to him with a rueful grin. “They wouldn't _survive_ her undivided attention! _I_ barely survived it.”

With the last comment, he turned slightly and jabbed his thumb at two deep crystalline scars that crisscrossed over the large of his back.

“ _Mother_ did that?”

He had noticed them when he was young, and speculated on it often, but he never asked either of his parents how Gunmar had gotten them.

“It was the last battle with the Penthesileans during my first conquest. Vossnell proved to be more capable than I gave her credit for. When I sent a Stalkling after her to destroy the enemy's moral with the death of their champion, she waltzed into our camp and left it's head outside my tent. I'm still not sure how she was able to do that.” Gunmar stopped for a moment, before shaking his head slightly and continuing his narrative, “For a time we had a unit of Penthesileans who deserted their kind. Seventy-five born and bred warriors fell to her in one night, and she had taken their braids to be burned. A massive dishonor in the eyes of her culture, from what I've gathered.”

Then he looked off into the middle distance, no doubt recalling his final battle against a bitter enemy. “By the time I faced her in battle myself, I thought she was magnificent. She was in her element when she was fighting, and she could read the flow of battle so easily.”

Bular then realized he was simply recalling his mother when she had been in her prime, and could only stare at his father's face. That was an expression he thought he would never see on his father. That look of admiration and softness was strange given his usual moods.

Abruptly, Gunmar glanced at him and shook away the expression. “Her back was turned when I went to strike her down. No matter how much I admired her skill, I knew I had to do something to break the siege quickly. I thought I had ended her, or maybe I was being arrogant. I must've felled a troll that was dear to her, for I heard a fearsome battle cry then I felt pain across my back, and I was sent flying across the battlefield, “ Gunmar chuckled and lightly shook his head. “She was _furious_. The battle lasted for hours. I was genuinely beginning to think I would have to get assistance. Then I knocked her back, and her anguish must've overcome her fury when she looked upon the male I fell in her place.”

“Then what happened?” Bular inquired, invested in this new tale.

Invested and content, feeling like he was a whelp again, listening to stories of toil from his father and epic fables from his mother. And he was going to take that thought to his grave, even from his dear parents.

His father shrugged. “I knocked her unconscious, and left with her in tow as spoil of war and as a way to break the will of her people.”

“I imagine that she must've been quite the handful when she came to.”

The bull-horned troll laughed and nodded. “Quite. She killed thirteen troops and seriously mauled countless more when they tried to go near her. She nearly tore off my hand when I approached her and claimed her as a pet.”

Bular chuckled and imagined the spectacle that it must've been. He did not put it beyond his mother to do such a thing. Then he took in a deep breath and released it slowly.

“And when did your relationship change? When did you become what you are now?” He couldn't exactly call them mates, but they were definitely more than master and prized pet.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his father startle ever so slightly. Whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

“... Our dynamic changed the first time I laid with her. It wasn't much of a change, she still wanted to maul me every time I came near her, just not as badly. About two weeks after the fact, she actually sought out my company. But I think that's because you were on the way.” He explained.

“But that's when our dynamic drastically changed,” His blue eye darted over to the list he held in his claws, “And if you're planning to become more with that troll you claimed at the Bridge opening, make sure he's worth it, and go about it better than I did.”

“Duly noted. Thank you, Father.”

“Think nothing of it, my son.” The Warlord hummed, coming to stand by him.

Then suddenly, his father clapped him on the shoulder and said that oddest thing. “Guess we have a type.”

“What?”

The warlord shot his son a wide, mischievous grin. Which almost seemed out of place, but Bular recognized it as one of the expressions that he reserved for Mother and himself.

“Clever trolls with caustic tongues, multiple eyes, and extra limbs, you know what I mean.” His father chuckled.

Bular stared for a moment before sharing a laugh with his father, and muttered farewells then departing, still chuckling over that unexpected similarities.

But as he left his father's home, he thought about what his mother had said about getting Blinky to warm up to him. He paused mid-step and considered what his father had just told him. Then he uttered a long suffering sigh and made a detour to the market.

The book vendor still jumped out of their skin when he showed up and barely managed to speak without squeaking. He just huffed at their fear and left his 'impulse funds' (as his mother dubbed them) on the counter and left them to themself.

When he finally made his way home, the historian was still reading, though his posture was much more relaxed than before. Probably because he didn't realize that he was back. So with that in mind, he purposefully slammed the door so he didn't startle the blue troll by suddenly looming over him with no warning.

And as he predicted, Blinky jolted in fright and immediately stiffened. He glanced up book to the door, and Bular watched as his defense rose to meet the threat that his mere presence implied for the smaller troll.

Usually, he relished it when a troll did what his pet did when he walked into the room. And if he didn't relish it, he was annoyed with it and sent the offender scurrying away. But when Blinky did it, it made something in him want to sulk, and he hated him and himself for it.

But he swallowed his inhibitions, and approached the troll and dropped his gift before him,

“For your collection.” He simply stated.

Then he left for his chambers. For why should he antagonize the troll he was trying to charm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I neglected writing for my novel in favor of this and drabble requests. I don't regret it, but I will not be updating (or writing for this) for a while because I need to make up for what I could've written.  
> So we get another chapter from Bular's point of view! I swear I won't be switching POV every chapter, I was just stuck on Blinky's part. I have to imagine that he's going stir-crazy though.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!  
> And if you want to see anything in later chapters, be sure to let me know so I can take it into consideration, and feedback is always appreciated!


	7. Puzzle Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are things in canon that will be blatantly disregarded from here on out.  
> Just a heads up.

After the strange happening of Bular gifting him various title without prompting or warning, Blinky was once again in Gunmar's citadel, only Vossnell was not there to steal him away as she usually did. So he moved to where they usually sat and stewed. He had plenty of food for thought afterall.

Immediately, his concern took hold and thought of his friends, new and old. He was still mostly in the dark about Aaarrrrgghh and Jim's current predicament, and he shuddered to think about what was being done to them. He didn't know the situation at Troll Market, nor did he know the whereabouts of Toby or Draal, even if he had his suspicions about the latter. It was one of many things that had set him particularly on edge, though they were all seconded by his current position with Bular and his anxiety about future developments in this strange 'relationship' of theirs.

But one of the things that niggled the most in the back of his mind was the discrepancies surrounding his new friend's explanations. Gumm-Gumms respected her to an abnormal degree, that which they never showed any supposed pet. And even though Gunmar's other pets were shown a degree of courtesy, they weren't shown the respect that even a common foot soldier was given. Was it because she was clearly Gunmar's favored pet and the mother of the one who had set them free?

He shook his head, it still didn't seem right. The respect she was shown was almost on par with the admiration and fear they had for the Skullcrusher. The other unfortunate trolls in the citadel were fearful of her.

She did say she was the Champion of her people, so that could do it...

Eventually he sighed and shook his head. He really did have a thing for conspiracies... Either way, his new friend was a conundrum, and he didn't have enough information to start figuring out her and her mask.

He went to puzzle over other things but was interrupted by a voice that was strangely familiar. _Achingly_ familiar.

“So, the rumors _are_ true.”

He looked up from his hands to see another Pannoxi in a cloak before him. He furrowed his brows, even as he felt his heart skip a beat with horror, surely it couldn't be - !

“Blinky! I'm so sorry about just leaving you out here on your own...”

He turned his head to see Vossnell speed walking over, pulling off long gloves and shoving them into one of the pouches of her belt. She raised her head from the task and he saw she had some sort of steel hair piece framing her face and molding to the curve of her horns. The he saw her eyes zero in on the other troll in the dark cloak and she slowed to a purposeful walk.

“Vossnell.” The troll said shortly, just barely keeping disdain out of his tone.

“Dictatious.” She replied with blatant dislike.

Blinky's heart broke as she confirmed his suspicions.

“You were _dead_.” He softly interjected as he watched his brother's mouth open.

“Was I? I hadn't gotten that particular memo.” His brother returned with a roll of his eyes.

Blinky jumped to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at the troll.

“I mourned you!”

“You always were on the sentimental side.” Dictatious sneered.

He felt another stabbing pain in his chest, and before he could retort again, Vossnell was suddenly standing in between them. He moved into a suitable position to look up at her face, and saw that she was glaring venomously with her lips pulled back over her fangs.

“Shoo.” She demanded, waving a hand in correspondence with her order.

“As the _Underlady_ commands.”

Blinky watched Vossnell's eyes flare and her snarl deepen with the mocking title, and she had suddenly lowered her body to get up in his brother's face.

“Don't you have somewhere else to be, _Adviser_?”

His brother had the sense to look unnerved at the sudden threat in her stance and tone, and quickly left, heading in the direction where Gunmar and Bular were no doubt talking about whatever it was that had required Bular's presence.

Vossnell's head followed his path, still glaring as the tip of her tail flicked. Only once he was out of view did she turn her attention back to him.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Oh yes fine, fine,” He nodded, before exploding. “Obviously not!”

She blinked at his outburst and raised her hands to her chest, but didn't say anything as he went about struggling to articulate his outrage.

Eventually, a long while after failing spectacularly to put all of his sudden emotions into words, he plopped down onto the lounge and put his face in his upper set of hands. Vossnell didn't say anything, though he heard her sit down. They stayed like that for a few moments before Vossnell finally spoke.

“Do you want to hear about the time I nearly turned him into gravel?”

Blinky took his face out of his hands and chuckled as he replied to the sudden, and rather odd, question. “What? How?”

She was looking at him in concern and he watched it turn to amusement as she looked ahead of her.

“It was over something really stupid,” She began, before amending her words. “Well, not really stupid, more like he was poking at a sore subject for me... But anyway, long story short, I snapped and tried to hit him with a boulder.”

Blinky barked out a laugh at the absurd mental image her words painted for him. She smiled and let out a few chuckles herself.

“It's a pity you weren't able to!”

She didn't say anything about his sudden disdain for his brother, she only nodded in agreement.

“The only reason I didn't was because Gunmar and three other Gumm-Gumms tackled me to the ground. The thing is, I snapped out of it the instant I was tackled, so I was pinned the ground thinking, 'yeah, that's fair. Can you let me up now?'”

She chuckled fondly, resting her forehead on the heel of her hand. “The whole situation was a hilarious mess.”

They fell into a companionable silence, simply enjoying each other company. But something bothered him, other then the revelation that his brother was a traitor to trollkind.

“Why did he call you Underlady?”

He watched her eyes widen and her body stiffen from his rightmost eye. Her hands clenched into fists and her tail suddenly cracked like a whip.

“He calls me that because he knows I don't like it.”

“But why? Is it beca-”

“It's because of my relationship with Gunmar.” She confirmed.

“And what exactly is that...?” He asked cautiously.

She looked to him, and he was stricken with how much she reminded him of Bular when she was glaring. Hard and angry, burning. She closed her eyes and sighed, opening them again, only they were much softer this time.

“I'm stuck with him. He's my mate, and I won't take another when, or _if_ , he dies. My breed of Penthesilean mates for life, and if our mates passes before us, we fade after them, though that process is slowed if you have an avid reason to continue on.”

“Do you resent that?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes. I have a lot of emotions regarding him, and not all of them are bad. I admire his strength, and his odd charisma, and I know he's a good father. I've had a long time to come to terms with my lot in life.”

Then she looked at him and tilted her head. She opened her mouth to ask him something, but then shook her head.

“Yes?” He prompted anyway.  
“I don't think you want to really talk about your dynamics with Bular.”

“No. No I don't.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Does he at least treat you well?”

“I... Can't complain, since I could have easily been killed when the bridge opened.”

“Right... Do you miss your friends?”

“Of course.”

“Bular and Gunmar going to the front lines for a few days, so maybe you could ask for company, and I could take you to see them.”

Blinky snapped his head to her, hoping beyond hope. “Really?”

She nodded with a smile.”Really.”

For a moment he thought about how livid the two bullish trolls would be. Then he looked at his friend's face and saw no worry burning in her eyes, so he let go of that particular care. Instead, he decided to jest.

“Going behind their backs, are we? How devious of you.” He chuckled.

Her lips formed a smile and she chuffed her amusement. “It's no worse then the time I let a couple of Nyarlagroth hatchlings loose in some place or another.”

He stared in surprise. “Did you get away with that?”

“Yeah, I just had to kill them before their parent showed up. It was fun watching the soldiers try to catch them though.”

Then her mouth twisted and she looked irritated.

“Of course, Gunmar had words with me about that little stunt, but it _was_ dangerous, so I didn't do it again.”

After that, they moved on to lighter subjects, as they always did, jesting and exchanging stories, and debating a moment or two until Gunmar appeared, with his son and adviser on either side. Vossnell's eyes instantly narrowed in a glare directed towards his brother. Then Gunmar opened his mouth, and her attention snapped to him, while Blinky tried not to fidget at the ambiguous intensity filling the air.

“Vossnell, would you - “

“No.”

Gunmar tilted his head at her, eye narrowing slightly. “Why?”

“Because my people would ignore you and the army so that they could tear me limb from limb.”

Gunmar hummed and nodded once, and Vossnell stood up, bringing her forehead down to his.

“That being said, good luck.”

“Humph. As if I would need it.” He retorted even as he returned his mate's gesture.

She glared at him softly. “Take it as it was meant.”

“Of course.”

Blinky turned his gaze away from their exchange and found his eyes drawn to Bular, by virtue of his size making him hard to overlook. Drawn by the only bits of vivid color he had, he locked eyes with him, and was frozen by the intensity that he looked at everything with. Maybe it was just the set of his brows...

But nonetheless, he was frozen by something that burned in his eyes, something that was... uncharacteristic of the son of Gunmar. Then Bular broke their eye contact as he jerked his head to acknowledge his father.

Blinky slowly stood up, because for reasons he couldn't fathom, whatever had burned in his captor's had left him anxious and shaken. He wanted to know what it was, but at the same time balked at the idea of knowing. It was still a back and forth debate when Bular announced he would be heading home to prepare.

Then Dictatious made a request to accompany him. To 'catch up with long lost family' he had said.

That snapped him out of his stupor and into an outrage.

“Absolutely not!” He shouted before Bular could respond.

“I do not want you hovering about and trying to convince me of whatever it is that you have in mind!” He all but snarled, getting up into his brother's face.

Dictatious looked like he was about to say something. He felt his irritation spike, backed by the anger and other emotions that had been steadily building up since the opening of the bridge.

“I don't want to hear _anything_ you have to say!”

He turned to look at Bular, and watched his face soften with surprise at what came out of his mouth next.

“Now can we please go home?”

Bular simply nodded, and Blinky followed after him without a second thought, his arms firmly crossed and his face set in a scowl. 'Catch up' his mossy bottom!

It was silent for several minutes as they made their way to Bular's abode, and during that time, Blinky took to reining in his temper. Eventually he was able to let out a sigh and look over to Bular.

His face was contemplative and had a certain softness to it that he knew meant it wasn't something gruesome. So he figured it was a good a time as any.

“Vossnell told me you would be away for a few days?”

Bular turned his gaze to him, a certain guarded look to his contemplation. “Most likely.”

“Would it be a stretch to ask to have company over?”

Bular took a breath to say something, and opened his mouth to deliver his thought, but then he closed it and glanced off to the side.

“Depending on who it is.”

“The only one I'm inclined to have over in your absence is Vossnell.”

He glanced back at him and rose a brow.

“You won't even consider entertaining your brother?”

Blinky distinctly felt his gaze sharpen into a glare.

“He is not my brother. Not anymore.”

Bular was silent as they neared his home, but he finally heaved a sigh.

“I suppose so. Mother will do as she wills anyway.”

Blinky felt a burst of pleasant surprise flush through him. He had fully expected Bular to shot down the idea and leave him alone to his books.

“Thank you, I appreciate it...” He said truthfully.

Bular looked at him from the corner of his eye, and simply shrugged.

He went to gather what he needed for his expedition, and Blinky picked up a book he had been in the middle of before they had left, taking one of the seats in the common room.

He could puzzle about all the strange occurrences around him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I apologize for the wait. The muse only came back to me the middle of last month, with Season 2.  
> Second, I feel like I should apologize for Vossnell. You guys presumably came here for a weird crack ship and to see my take on what would happen if they had opened the bridge the first time. She's just really concerned about Blinky, and since I don't know where I'm going with this, she's feeling protective.  
> Third, I hope everyone had an enjoyable holiday season!


	8. Bittersweet Reunions

Bular left a few hours after they had returned, leaving him a crystal that he said would put him in with Vossnell. Blinky still didn't know what to think about the subtle kindnesses he was giving him, only that it was extremely out-of-character for him. Still, he had thanked him and returned to his books for a while.

He didn't know how long it had been – partially because of how time would fly when he was reading, and partially because there was an infuriating lack of clocks in the Darklands – so when the crystal pulsed and damn near vibrated off the side table, it was needless to say that he had startled quite dramatically.

“ _Blinky! Blinky, I'm coming over now._ ” Came Vossnell's distorted voice.

He scrambled for the crystal to reply, but once he had it in one of his hands, his mind went blank. Bular never told him how to use it. So he huffed and tried a number of ways before dropping it back on the table.

He watched it skitter off and sighed, kneeling to pick it up. He smacked it back down and made sure it wasn't going to skitter off again before returning to his seat.

He couldn't do much else than wait, he supposed.

He was almost settled back into his book when he heard a rap on the door, before it was opened and Vossnell stepped through, stooping slightly as to not catch her antlers. He jolted once again and she let out a sound of amusement that was a cross between a chuff and a laugh. He huffed and marked his page before rising to greet her.

She smiled at him and blinked in a manner similar to a cat and they went over a few pleasantries before he finally asked the question that had been bugging him ever since he had gotten it into his head.

He picked up the crystal and showed it to her. “How does this blasted thing work?”

She laughed softly and pulled out her own crystal, pressing it to her throat.

“Testing. Testing. One, two, three.” She said, making the two crystals flash in accordance to her words.

“...ah. I hadn't thought of that. Maybe I'm a bit too used to human technology...” he hummed.

She shrugged with a smile and put her crystal back. “Are you ready to go?”

“I suppose I am, but won't your escort stop us?” He asked, remembering what she had said their job was.

“Nah. Gunmar took every soldier he could to go face off with the resistance.” She replied, making his heart jump.

“Resistance? There's resistance against Gunmar and his army?” He asked frantically as they went toward the door.

“Yeah, I was kinda surprised too. I sorta expected... never mind.” She sighed.

“No, what were you going to say?” He asked, slightly pressing.

“Drop it Blinky.” She growled in a gruff voice, casting a slight glare at him from the corner of her eyes.

He wilted slightly under her gaze, and she winced, sighing again.

“Sorry, it's just a thousand years trapped with Gunmar and such company kinda... kinda messed with me...” she explained. “Just don't mind my mutterings. I'm bitter. Just an old and bitter lady with a lot of familiarity with war...” She sighed, her eyes like dying coals.

He rested a hand against hers and she looked at him with slight surprise. He remembered how Aaarrrgghh had been rehabilitating him, he had to imagine she was in a similar place.

“It's quite alright my friend.” he smiled.

She jolted at the term 'friend', and her eyes suddenly looked wet. She sharply turned her head away and rose her hands up to her chest. She was like that for a moment, saying things that were too soft to distinguish. Then she turned back to him, her eyes bright again and a small smile on her face.

“Well enough of this mess, why don't we get going, hmm?” she asked, opening the door and ducking through it.

He stared at her, once again puzzling over the disjointed nature she put out, but nodded and walked after her. A small, nauseating rush of excitement washed over him, mingling with fear and worry. What would happen if they were found out? What would Bular, or even Gunmar, do to them? What if his ex-brother deemed in necessary to supervise them?

The last worry was immediately washed away as he remembered how frightened of Vossnell Dictatious seemed to be. But the other worries buzzed in his head, like angry pixies, giggling maliciously and eating away at his mind.

He was nudged by someone and saw Vossnell looking at him with a slight look of worry. She had crouched down to his height and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?”

“Yes, yes fine...”

“Bushigal.” she said simply.

“Simply anxious is all! No need to worry!” He laughed, but it was that sort of soft, forced laugh.

“So don't.” She chuckled. “Don't worry. You'll save yourself a lot of stress that way.”

She patted his shoulder and began walking, prompting him to obviously follow her. And from there they spoke about soft things, like their feelings on the developments of the books they've read. He made a passing comment at the scarring on the tip of her tail, and she laughed, grabbing it and looking at it.

“Yeah, it fell victim to my children's teething.” she chuckled, letting it sweep behind her.

“Children? Are they out fighting as well?” He asked, never having heard any mention of a sibling from Bular.

“No, no, she went looking for her mate as soon as the bridge opened. They're probably 'making up' for lost time.” She chuckled. “She probably doesn't even know what's going on over here.”

“Ah, I see.” He hummed, smiling softly.

The conversation meandered from there until they reached an even darker area of the Darklands, and she took a key from a rack, handing it to him. Then she gave him directions to their cells, using her tail as a chair as she pulled her legs up off the ground.

“Aren't you coming with me?” he asked, a smidge concerned, and more than a bit unsure.

“I don't want to intrude.” She replied, taking a flask from her belt and motioning him off with her free hand.

He nodded slightly, even as he felt a slight pit form in his stomach. “Yes, well, thank you Vossnell.”

She smiled again and he went off, glancing back just in time to see her take a long swig of the flask and stare out across the Darklands solemnly. So he sighed and continued on his way, counting the cells until he came to Aaarrrgghh's cell, the gentle giant curled up in the back with his face towards the wall.

He looked at the slot next to the crystals, and pressed the key into it, twisting, and jolting as Aaarrrgghh whirled around, his carvings glowing and a snarl on his face. Then the Kubera realized who was standing before him, and calmed, immediately going into a state of disbelief.

“Bl... Blinky?” He asked, the tone soft.

The historian couldn't help himself and immediately dove into cell to hug his old friend, laughing with relief.

“Aaarrrgghh! How I've missed you!” He cried, latching onto the larger troll.

He let out a sound of surprise as he was picked up and squashed to Aaarrrgghh's chest, before melting into the embrace. He pulled back slightly and pressed his cheek to the other's, sighing happily and pulling back again to rub at his eyes.

They were silent as they pressed their noses together, simply basking in each others' presence in a way that they hadn't been able to do in months. The larger troll took a deep breath and nuzzled his face before pulling away as he scent something odd.

Then he finally noticed the metallic markings covering his skin and he growled softly, scrapping at them gently.

“Bular.” he huffed in an angry tone, pointing on the sigil on his upper arms.

“Yes... Bular has thoroughly staked his claim...” Blinky sighed as he rubbed an arm.

“Has he...?” Aaarrrgghh trailed off with a hint of fear, his eyes broadcasting concern and worry.

“Has he...? Oh! Oh, heaven's no!” He quickly reassured, bracing his arms against the other, reassuring him with another nose touch and cheek press.

They stayed like that for another few moments, many things bubbling in their minds, too much to accurately articulate in the limited time they had together. Blinky ran his hands through the green fur that covered his friend's chest, and Aaarrrgghh nuzzled against the top of his head, the two of them relishing this physical contact.

Then Aaarrrgghh pulled away and looked and him with many emotions, though curiosity was the most prominent.

“How did you?”

“Get here? Well I wouldn't have even dreamed of being able to do this without Vossnell's help.”

The larger troll's eyes widened slightly and he smile. “Vossnell here?

Blinky smiled a bit. “Yes, she's outside.”

Aaarrrgghh opened his mouth and then closed it again. “How are friends?”

“I don't know. I though I saw Draal before, but I couldn't confirm. And I haven't heard anything about our human compatriots. But I have heard of something else.” He said in a conspiratory whisper. “But first I need to confirm Master Jim's well being.”

Aaarrrgghh nodded in understanding and rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to, smiling at him and nodding his head. Blinky smiled in return and resting a hand on the Kubera's.

Then he pulled away with a hurried promise that he would be back soon. He took the key from it's slot and watched the crystals go back into place. He shared a lingering stare with the larger troll before heading further into the prison cells.

Crystals stopped growing the further he went. The light was gradually replaced by eerie scones, and the cells were now large, wrought doors that Blinky privately doubted that he would be able to move. But he was alone, so he would have to if he want to speak with Master Jim.

He eventually came to the end of this hall, where the lights were dim, the shadows deep and warped, and his paint marks flashing a sickly color. His ears perked and flicked as he heard muttering coming from beyond the door, and echoing, however slightly.

He looked at the turning mechanism and heaved a deep sigh. Then he went to struggle with the massive thing, throwing his arms up with jubilation when it finally went.

He darted away as it swung open, and he heard the Trollhunter groan slightly. Then he peeked his head around the door and saw him brighten considerably.

“Blinky! I'm so glad you're safe!”

Blinky darted in and used a small key that he was cautioned to take as he undid the manacles. Once they were open, he stumbled back as Jim suddenly surged to his feet and hugged him. He smiled and draped his arms over his back in return. Then Jim suddenly pulled away and frantically looked him over.

“You _are_ okay, right? Bular hasn't done anything to you?” He asked frantically, his worry as evident as ever.

“Calm yourself Master Jim!” He soothed quickly, resting a hand on his head. “I am fine! Well... for the most part...” He trailed off as he looked at the marks on his arms and body.

Jim's attention averted to the copper paints and he began tracing them. “What does this mean?” He asked.

Blinky sighed and hung his head. “I brands me as a... as a 'pet'.” He may have spat out the last word with a bit more force then needed. Maybe. He definitely did.

Jim made an irritated noise and threw up his hands, then looked up at him with a beaten down face and sad eyes. “I'm sorry I couldn't do better.”

“Don't you start with that Master Jim!” He snapped, sensing where this was going. And he would not stand for the unfairness of the boy's situation. Certainly not his self blame, at least.

The boy startled and looked up at him with wide eyes, and Blinky softened as he rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Please don't blame yourself for this. It can't be helped now.” He said softly.

Jim deflated slightly and he felt his shoulders slump.

“I know Blinky. I just... it's hard to accept.” he sighed.

“I know it is... but I don't think I have much time here. So I need to say this quickly. Even the word hopeless isn't void of hope.” Saying that left a distinctly bad taste in his mouth, knowing his brother was the first to say it. It was something that he desperately needed to keep in mind, but it was soured.

Either way, it had the desired effect. Jim seemed to calm before him and he nodded.

“Yeah... yeah thanks Blinky. I… I needed to hear that.”

He smiled at him and nodded.

“Of course Master Jim. Now before I have to begin leaving, I must tell you something. But you mustn't quote me on this.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“I have heard murmurings of a resistance, a rebellion, whichever word catches your fancy. But they're fighting back Master Jim!” He said with hushed excitement..

The Trollhunter lit up. “That's amazing! We can get out of here!” He gushed with the same hushed excitement.

Blinky nodded even as he felt a part of him doubt it. “Precisely! But we must keep the the fact of our knowledge to ourselves.”

Jim nodded and went to pacing his cell, stretching and making the troll wince with all the pops his joints made.

He let him get some of the tightness out of his body before explaining that he would have to leave and put him back how he found him. Lest the Gumm-Gumms realize what happened.

Jim sighed but nodded. “Yeah, I've been doing the same thing with this troll that's been coming in and talking to me.”

Blinky tensed at that statement. “Have you now?” Jim glanced at him and quickly went to calm him down. “It's fine! I think she's sympathetic to everything that happened, and she's been giving me food and medicine too.”

Blinky calmed slightly, already having idea about who Jim's visitor was. “Ah. Well, I wish we had more time to converse but...”

“No, no, it's fine Blinky, get out of here before you get in too much trouble.” Jim said as he gently pushed against his chest.

Blinky sighed and nodded. “I hope it won't be too long before we can speak with each other again, Master Jim.” He said sadly.

“Yeah, be careful, won't you?”

“Of course.” He replied, hugging him one last time.

Then, after a beat of that, he reluctantly put Jim back in his chains and went off. He closed the door with a sigh, and beginning back down the hall. The crystals returned and the deafening silence faded. The cells were once again marked by crystals and he saw Aaarrrggh anxiously pacing the front of his cell.

He jogged over and opened the cell again, pressing into his friend's furry chest once again. Aaarrrgghh chinned the top off his head and they both took deep breathes of the others scent.

“Want to tell me something?”

“Ah yes, of course!” He said, moving back to look at his friend.

“There's a resistance! They're going to be fighting back!”

Aaarrrgghh's ears perked and he seemed to brighten. “Really?”

“Well, I heard rumors, well not rumors, Vossnell mentioned it in passing.” He ushered, sharing a hopeful smile with the Kubera. Though they both faded, and he allowed for this pessimism. Then he sighed and took Aaarrrgghh's hand.

“Let's hope for the best.” He said.

The larger trolls made a gruff noise of agreement and pressed his forehead to his. Blinky smiled and pressed into the gesture before he stepped away, sensing that it was time to leave.

“Until next time, old friend.” He said as he closed the cell again.

Aaarrrgghh nodded and settled in the back of his cell. “Tell Vossnell, said 'hi'.”

“Of course.” He said before actually departing.

He put the keys on their racks and came to stand next to Vossnell. She seemed to have almost doze off, resting her head in her hand. He was about to rouse her when her lower right eye lazily opened.

“How was the visit?” She asked.

“Bitter sweet.”

She hummed and lowered her feet back to the ground, standing up and stretching.

“But it was nice nonetheless. Thank you for this Vossnell.” He said, looking up at her.

She looked at him like a deer in the headlights, before blinking her eyes out of sync. Then she smiled and did her usual bit of nodding and blinking at the same time. “Of course Blinky. Now we should be heading back.”

“Of course, of course.”

She offered a half smile and began walking. He fell in step besides her and then glanced up at her. “Oh by the way, Aaarrrgghh says 'hi'.”

she glanced at him and then smiled. “I'll visit him another day, since I wasn't able to this time.”

Blinky smiled and nodded, before acting on his hunch. “And thank you for helping Master Jim.”

Her eyes softened and she looked around at the scenery. “...Of course.”

Companionable silence lapsed as they went back to Bular's home, and they shared a drink and talked some more before Vossnell had to depart. He saw her off, waving before he returned to his books.

Somehow, it didn't feel as lonely as it used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! This kinda got put on the backburner after my inspiration flagged! but here it is! I hope you enjoy it.  
> Also! I did get up the first chapter of my story involving Vossnell, if anybody wants to go check it out!


	9. Author's request!

Hey guys! It's been a long time since I updated, but I want to get back into the swing of things! Or at least put out an actual chapter after four months of radio silence...

Anyway! I want to ask something of you guys! I've mentioned Penthesileans quite a bit in a few chapters, and I have said that I want to whirl back to the resistance! So I'm asking you guys to make a Penthesilean I could feature in the next chapter!

I have a good deal of stuff on them on my tumblr and I would love to interact with you guys! Further more, if you need help, which would be understandable since I do NOT have enough about my troll breed up, message me!

Anyway, here's the tumblr, just copy and paste it into your search bar.

 

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/trollhunters-fanworks

 

I hope to be able to post an actual chapter soon!


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